Trying to Breathe
by Katia Earley
Summary: "It felt good, letting out all his anger, sadness, and frustration on the black punching bag..." My headcannon to what Blaine was doing during "Theatricality." Pre-Klaine, Blaingst Please review and leave constructive criticism. I appreciate it! :


**AN: Hey everybody. I haven't had the time to write in while, and I still don't. Classes have been a pain. However, this small fic wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it. It takes place around the same time as "Theatrically," with a lot of my Blaine headcannon thrown in. I know it's pre-Klaine, but I had to put this under both of them because you can't have one without the other. Hope you like it! Once again, reviews are greatly appreciated, even if you hate it. Have a good day! :D**

It felt good, letting out all his anger, sadness, and frustration on the black punching bag.

The constant creaking of the hooks the bag was hanging on, the physical pain in his knuckles reminding him that yes, he was still alive regardless of how numb he felt inside; the erratic beating of his heart pumping blood, the same blood that ebbed from his nose, mouth and right ear that night; the harsh breaths coming out of his mouth, the adrenalin pulsating through his body making him want to do something reckless, break something- yeah, it felt good.

He kept punching and hitting the bag over and over, screaming in rage about how unfair everything is, how messed up. he was still the same Blaine, why would who he will come to love affect the way people see him? Why did he have to get beaten up before anyone even did anything to help him? Why was he always a disappointment to his father, and why couldn't his father for once not compare him to Cooper? One last punch was thrown before he put his arms around the swinging punching bag and sunk into it in exhaustion, hot tears pouring down his face and sobs wrecking his body.

_He didn't know what to do or what to think. All he knew was that he had to act, and he had to act fast, before thing go from bad to worse. Unfortunately, it was too late for anything to save him. He was at their mercy now._

_He could have tried to push them of, block their punches and their kicks, but that would have made things worse. They would have punched and kicked harder than they already were, cause more damage than they already have. He knew that there would never a come a day when he would be able to completely wipe this memory away from his mind. Was this his punishment, he wondered as a well-placed kick hit him in the ribs and another foot stomped on his face, effectively breaking his nose. It must be, was the the last thought he had before he fell unconscious._

All Blaine wanted was go to a dance with a boy, have a good time, and dance one song together without the cruel, judgmental eyes of his peers, his teachers, and the dance chaperones. Instead, he got a trip to the hospital with broken bones in his left hand and wrist, ribs, and nose, suffered a concussion, had his face swell to twice its usual size, and had multiple bruises covering the full length of his body. If that wasn't enough, his mother wouldn't stop crying the every time she looked at him and his father barely spoke one word to him.

It wasn't until a few weeks ago, after months of healing, that Blaine's parents sat down with him to talk about the whole "situation." This made Blaine sniff nosily, wiping his face with strong swipes of his hands. They said that they had found a school with a zero-tolerance bullying policy that would make it possible for Blaine to go to school without the fear of getting hurt.

Listening to them describe the school made it seem like some fantasy. Not being called horrible names in the hall, having anonymous notes telling him he was an abomination dropped into his locker, getting shoved in the hallways, taunted in the locker rooms- these things wouldn't happen there. More importantly, he wouldn't be beaten up again. Blaine knew that real life didn't work that way, but he couldn't be blamed for wanting to be able to learn without the threat of getting hurt. Unfortunately, there was a catch. Of course there would be, he had thought when his mother and father shared a tense look with each other. Due to his inability to stay up to date with his makeup work and Dalton's rigorous education system, he would have to be held back a year.

He wouldn't be able to graduate with the rest of the people his age because of those fucking, homophobic assholes. Meanwhile, the only punishment those assholes got was a week's worth of suspension.

Where the hell was the justice in that?

Was it any surprise then, how angry Blaine was?

But that didn't matter. No, he was gay so he was supposed to accept that bad things were going to happen to him.

Blaine took a deep breath and got up from his spot. He took his black boxing gloves off his sweaty hands, and tossed them haphazardly into his gym bag. Looking at the watch (which he wears on his right wrist because of the months his left arm was in a cast, and got so used it), Blaine saw that it was five o'clock and sighed. He needed to get home, shower, and get ready for the next day. Tomorrow would be his first day at Dalton.

Maybe Dalton would help him be him again.

Blaine, however, would not dare to hope for much. Anytime he did, it never turned out well. Why would this time be any different?


End file.
